


Sounds of The Rain

by Rinienne



Series: Cloudy with a Chance of Accidentally Falling in Love [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Crying, Depowered Lucifer, Depressed Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything Hurts, First Time, Loneliness, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 16:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14060808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinienne/pseuds/Rinienne
Summary: Deep down Sam knows that he would regret it for the rest of his life, but he is ready to do the right thing and kill Lucifer. Or so he thinks.





	Sounds of The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [Lucifers-perfect-angel](https://lucifers-perfect-angel.tumblr.com/)

_Pat, pat, pat, pat_ , the rain was tapping on the roof of the Impala, heavy drops beating against the window of the passenger seat. Streaks of water were rolling down the windshield, thrown left and right by the wipers, which screeched quietly as they rubbed against the glass.

“This better work,” Dean sighed, his hands clenching tighter into the steering wheel. “I’m tired of running after him.”

Sam nodded in response, even if he was sure his brother couldn’t see it, too focused looking at the building of an inconspicuous motel. To tell the truth, Sam didn’t care, didn’t wish to respond. In fact, he would’ve been perfectly content to stay still and quiet for as long as he could. Maybe even turn around and leave.

Perhaps, the rain was to blame for his sour mood. Days like this had always had a habit of crawling under his skin, bringing apathy, making him feel empty and alone even surrounded by people. But there was more to it than the bad weather.

Sam’s biggest enemy, the one who up to this day continued to come to him in nightmares, was in one of the motel rooms before them. He didn’t know what exactly Lucifer was doing there, as the anonymous source didn’t give details, but Sam knew the information was correct. Less than ten minutes ago, the hunter saw the archangel disappearing behind one of white wooden doors with his own eyes.

Without thinking, Sam reached out for inner pocket of his jacket, his fingers wrapping around a celestial blade. It felt cold to the touch, heavy against his palm, and Sam closed his eyes exhaling slowly, fighting the shiver that ran through his entire body.

They’ve already had a vial of archangel grace for the spell, so they came here to kill Lucifer.

Not capture and imprison, but end his life, and it felt strange somehow, wrong. Granted, they’ve tried it before, during the Apocalypse, but it had been different then. Then they hadn’t had a history. A part of Sam that learned more about the archangel, about the reasons behind his actions, didn’t want to do it no matter the circumstances. He wanted desperately to find a different way, in which every one of them would walk away alive if not happy today.

Sam heard his brother calling him, his intonation raised as if he needed to repeat himself several times to get his attention.

“Yes, yeah, I’m good,” he replied, and immediately regretted it, because Dean gave him a questioning look, as if he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to let Sam be here.

Yet, the moment passed, and Dean let it go with a short nod. He turned to the latch on his door, opened the car and stepped out.

Sam followed his example, bombarded immediately by the wind, cold droplets of water hitting his skin feeling like hundreds of tiny blades. He shivered and wanted to wrap the jacket tighter around himself, but fought the urge, because one of his hands was still clenching into the blade as his life literally depended on it.

He pondered about taking it out right now, because the parking lot was almost empty. Still, there were several cars in the area, and the hunter could see people behind the windows in different rooms. He wasn’t sure how many paid attention, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“We should be careful. This just smells like a trap,” Dean commented, his eyes glued to the room with the devil inside. “I mean, he’s a ruler of Heaven now, apparently, what would he do in a cheap motel? Lover’s quarrel with that angel bitch who backstabbed us?”

Sam bit his lip, but didn’t say anything. Any mention of Anael was making him angry, and he couldn’t put a finger as to why, so he preferred to ignore it. “It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head instead. “Let’s just finish this and be done with it.”

As if it was possible to be done with something like this. If Sam had nightmares about Lucifer torturing him, after killing the archangel he sure was going to have nightmares about it too, about stabbing him in the heart, watching life leaving his eyes, feeling his body heaving in his arms...

The hunter trembled almost violently, and he doubted the cold was the reason. For a second, he pondered if he needed to give the blade to Dean, but decided against it. If it was his brother to go for the killing blow, he would most likely want to stop him. No, it needed to be done, and he was the one who needed to do it. Because it was the right thing, because having a sympathy for the devil was going to cost lives of innocent people.

He made a step towards the room they saw Lucifer entering, then another. His legs were shaking slightly from nervousness, and it wasn’t a good sign. A few more steps, and he was closer, too close already. This distance was the last thing that remained between hI’m and the archangel, and Sam wanted for it to never diminish, hoping that by some miracle crossing the last several feet was going to take an eternity.

Unfortunately, no miracles happened, and soon Sam was reaching for the door handle, pulling the sword out of his pocket, aware of Dean’s presence right behind him. They needed to act fast, because even while not at his full strength, Lucifer could overpower them, and the element of surprise was the only thing they had. Taking a deep breath, Sam pushed the door open, practically jumping into the room.

A lot of things happened very fast from there on. First, Sam was greeted by Lucifer’s face, that to his relief was surprised. He almost ran towards the archangel, but realized the blade was no longer in his hand. That made him stumble, almost falling face first into Lucifer’s chest, which would’ve been really undignifying, not to mention a very stupid way to die. Thankfully, he regained ballance just in time and tried to backtrack to the exit, only to discover it was no longer there, his back colliding with solid wood.

The entire time, his eyes were on Lucifer.

The surprise from earlier left the archangel’s face fast, turning into confusion at the hunter’s actions. Then it was replaced with cold anger, and Sam prepared for the worst as Lucifer’s hand rose into the air, his fist clenching as if he was grabbing into something invisible.

Readying himself for excruciating pain, Sam cringed, his neck shrinking into his shoulders, but nothing happened. Lucifer frowned and tried again, but to the same lack of result. Surprise returned to his expression, and he took a defencive stance.

They stood like that for what felt like a long time, watching each-other with caution, until the adrenaline of Sam’s fight-or-flight reactions started to wear off. “Umm,” he exhaled slowly, unsure what he was supposed to do.

“You’re alone,” Lucifer noted, glancing around.

“Y-yes,” Sam lied hurriedly, hoping Dean would have more luck storming the motel. Speaking of which, his brother was only a step behind him, and it’s been more than enough time for the older hunter to catch up. Sam worried something might have went horribly wrong for both of them. Yet, that something wasn’t Lucifer, because the archangel, it seemed, was as clueless as Sam was.

Slowly, Lucifer started to relax, his posture straightening. “What do you want?”

“I... umm,” Sam tried to come up with something to explain himself, but to no avail. He had no idea what to tell Lucifer that would be realistic. “Nothing, I should just go,” he shrugged and swore in his mind at how stupid it sounded. The only way he could’ve made it worse was by adding he just used the wrong door.

“Nothing,” Lucifer repeated in disbelief, raising an eyebrow, his arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah, that’s rich.”

Sam attempted to calm himself down even further, push his fear away and think. He was certain Lucifer tried to hurt him, but he couldn’t, which meant that at least for the moment the archangel was powerless. And he also didn’t know he lost his powers, because of how surprised he looked when nothing happened. Even now, he was trying to project calmness, but everything about his pose was guarded, as he was afraid of Sam as much as the hunter was afraid of him.

“Something happened to both of us,” Sam said slowly, trying not to make any unnecessary movements as if he could spook the archangel.

“You don’t say,” Lucifer scoffed sarcastically, his eyes running around their surroundings, as if he was seeing them for the first time.

As the eye contact between them broke, Sam used the opportunity to follow the archangel’s example, his gaze running around the room that felt familiar somehow, more so than any other place. He wouldn’t have been surprised it was not the first time he’d been here.

It wasn’t big, but whoever built it thought it was a good idea to split it into two sections with an ornate, but plastic-looking divider. One of those sections contained a single queen bed, two nightstand around it and a chair that seemed unnecessary.

A similar chair was in the living area. It stood next to a table, that was neither dining, nor really a writing desk. A strange, out of place countertop was running along one of the walls. There was also a multitude of other small items Sam had learned to expect to see in a room after years on the road. It were things that repeated themselves over and over, no matter which town he and Dean stayed in, which motel they picked.

The color theme here was black and white with tints of red thrown there and there, like the accent pillows on the chairs, on the bed, a picture hanging on the wall was depicting various red fruits. There was a sign saying no smoking on the table but the room stunk of sigaters, the smell of it soaked into the wallpaper, into the furniture, a kind of odor that was impossible to get rid of.

“It’s not real,” Lucifer said slowly. Sam’s eyes immediately snapped back at him, and he caught the archangel biting his lower lip.

The hunter gulped and clenched his fists. He felt emptiness in his right hand again, reminded whatever happened pulled a blade out of his grip, and he didn’t even notice it. “What do you mean?” he inquired, trying to get a feel if the gun tucked under his belt behind his back was still there. Neither the gun, nor the knife that used to be strapped to his shin were on their spots, which meant he was completely weaponless against the devil.

Lucifer looked him up and down, his expression turning irritated, as if he sensed Sam’s though. Yet, even if he did, he didn’t react any further. “Open the door,” he nodded, pointing somewhere behind Sam.

The hunter nodded cautiously. Not willing to turn his back to the archangel, he blindly found the handle and pushed it down, opening the door slowly and sparing a single glance at the outside world.

Then he frowned and turned to look at it completely, unable to believe what he saw. It was still raining heavily, which significantly reduced the visibility. Even then Sam could see that the exit from the motel room was not where he came from. There weren’t any roads, the streets around the motel were gone too. It was just an endless parking lot with freshly painted separators on the ground, yet not a single car was in the hunter’s sight.

“Really? A pocket dimension?” came a frustrated, angry groan, so close next to him, that it made Sam jump. “Oh, come on, man! Are you going to continue freak out about every tiny thing?”

“Yes, because there’s absolutely no reason for it, right,” Sam retorted.

“Note, it’s you who keep coming for me,” the archangel pointed out. “A guy might get ideas,” he added with a wink. “Wait, you did come here for me, right?”

“Does it matter now?” Sam shrugged, trying to avoid the topic of why he was here for as long as he could.

Lucifer already seemed on edge. There was anger in his voice and in his eyes, but there was fear too. Sam was aware how much he hated to be trapped, so it was understandable where the both emotions were coming from. That was why the hunter doubted knowing he planned to kill him was going to help the situation.

The archangel huffed in annoyance at that. “Yeah, sunshine, it kinda does. Given we’re trapped, and all.” He took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead, as if he was starting to get a headache. “Ok, let’s try that. Truce. We’re working together until we figured out how to get out.”

“And how would I know it’s not a trap?”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed at him and for a second he looked not only angry, but also hurt somehow. “Oh, right, I lie,” he sighed heavily and walked back into the room, climbing to sit on the countertop, leaning on the wall. “Then, I guess, we’ll just stay here until you start starving, or something.”

Sam spared one last glance to outside, pondering if he should go and see if he could find something, an exit perhaps, but he suspected it wasn’t going to work, and he’d only end up drenched in rainwater. Letting out a sigh of despair, he closed the door and turned to Lucifer again, pondering at his words.

“Alright,” he nodded. “We did came here for you. Now your turn. What are _you_ doing here?”

Lucifer was quiet for a second, looking at Sam appraisingly. “I guess it’s fair,” he nodded finally. “An anonymous source provided me with information about an archangel blade being delivered here,” then his eyes widened in realization. “You have it.”

“Not anymore,” Sam shook his head. It was a little awkward to stand, so he moved to the opposite end of the room, sliding against the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his wrists resting on his knees. “I had it in my hand when I opened the door.”

Lucifer’s expression turned into some strange mix of disgust and amusement. “Ah, I see,” he nodded. “You came to kill me. How sweet of you. Oh you, you didn’t have to,” he waved his hand as if Sam brought him a festively wrapped present which the archangel was reluctant to accept.

“We came here because someone told us you’ll be here. I’m assuming it’s the same person,” Sam continued ignoring Lucifer’s remark.

“So lil bro decided to lock us together,” Lucifer frowned thoughtfully. “But what for? Surely not to kill each-other, otherwise he wouldn’t cut my abilities and take the sword away from you.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he understood what Lucifer meant. He knew already the trickster archangel was alive. In fact, it was he who provided them with a piece of own grace. “Gabriel? You think Gabriel did it?”

“There’s no-one else strong enough to create pocket dimensions of this quality,” Lucifer confirmed. “If only I was at a full power, no way he could’ve pulled this off.”

“Alright,” Sam nodded. By this time his body stopped shaking, and his mind cleared enough to think logically. The last time they met Gabriel, they seemed to depart on more or less friendly note. It made no sense for him to try harmind Sam, unless...  “Usually, when he does something like this, it’s to prove some point, or tech a lesson. So if we figure it out, we could—”

“Or we can just sit and wait,” Lucifer interrupted. “I know my brother’s abilities, his constructs don’t hold longer than a few days. And then I’m gonna repay him in full.”

“Wow, that would've been a useful piece of information some years ago,” Sam tried to chuckle, yet the sound that escaped him was too rough to pass as amused. “Wait, didn’t you say I could starve to death if I won’t share information?” he frowned, realizing he was tricked.

“Nah,” Lucifer shrugged. “I said start starving. Technically humans do that pretty much after eating.”

“I hate you.”

“So does everyone else,” the archangel responded, and this time he sounded a little more upset.

***

Sam wasn’t sure how much time passed since he found himself stuck in a room with Lucifer. His phone wasn’t dead, but he couldn’t call it working either, as every time he looked at the screen, it was showing completely different dates and times. The internet was working perfectly, but each time he was attempting to contact anyone, be it via a phone call, text message, or using his fake accounts on social networks, the device was flashing angrily red.

All that time, Sam was staying hyper aware of Lucifer’s presence, almost being able to sense it with his skin. This awareness, the sense of danger was like a constant electrical current running through his system, not enough to hurt, but more than enough to bring a feeling of unease. He tried not to look at Lucifer directly, but he kept the archangel in the field of his vision, needing to constantly see him even if with a corner of his eyes.

Lucifer, meanwhile, was doing the same. He was walking around the room slowly, measurly, examining every corner of it, yet not a single time he turned his back to the hunter.

A lot of this time Sam spent thinking. He mused over the doubts he had before entering the room, about how he didn’t want to kill Lucifer. He had no idea how he was going to go about it, but realized this was a perfect opportunity to try a different course of actions. Perhaps, it was exactly why Gabriel arranged their meeting.

“What do you want?” Sam asked finally. “I mean, you must’ve come up with some end goals?”

“What do I want?” The archangel gave him a leveled stare, then smirked. “Oh, just the complete world domination, pesky humans to be gone, maybe for our dimension not to be destroyed by the invading angelic forces. You know, little things.”

“I guess, I understand wanting to protect our world. All to well, as the matter of fact,” Sam agreed. “But would destroying humanity really bring you joy?”

This time Lucifer grinned. “Classic me, I know!”

Realizing Lucifer wasn’t going to take this conversation seriously, the hunter rolled his eyes and leaned further backwards, his head touching the wall. “I don’t understand,” he frowned. He tried not to raise his voice, but it still came out a little too angry. “Are you allergic to normal conversion?”

“No, but there’s nothing to talk about,” the archangel shrugged.

Sam thought pissing Lucifer off was a bad idea, even if he was completely powerless at the moment. Yet, he was starting to feel really annoyed and couldn’t prevent himself from continuing in the same accusing manner. “You know what, I’m trying here, I really am. Because, maybe, there is a way to sort things out without a need to be at each-other throats. But you are just making it impossible!”

“Impossible’s my secret middle name,” Lucifer nodded. “Any suggestion on the last? I heard a lot of people think it’s Morningstar. Not bad, but maybe you’ve got better ideas?”

“Please stop. I really want to talk to you seriously.”

The archangel was going through some random drawers hanging on the wall on the other side of the room, with plenty of distance between them. He stopped midway, turning sharply towards the hunter. “Oh, now you want to talk to me? _Now_?” he asked throwing his arms into the air, sounding angry again. “Of course, little Sammy, things should only happen when it’s convenient to you.”

“What?” Sam blinked in surprise.

“Oh, nothing much,” he said with a snarl, “Only that I wanted to speak to you eight years ago. I tried to. But you turned your back on me, betrayed me!”

Sam stared at him with his mouth agape, before jumping to his feet. “Talking to you eight years ago?! Oh, forgive me for not wanting my own body to be used to end of the world, kill all humans!”

“Yeah, because we knew each-other to such extent, you surely could tell all my intentions!” Lucifer growled, taking several steps towards him, until he was close enough to poke at the hunter’s chest. “But no! You believed some old, dusty book that’s been whispered by a self-promoting, egocentric daddy dearest into ears of random, barely literate apes, then rewritten and retranslated dozens of times!”

“Oh, right! because I’ve never seen you senselessly slaughtering people. True saint!” he snapped, slapping Lucifer’s hand away from him. “You know what. I tried to be nice to you, even after everything you’ve done, but it’s obvious you don’t care. You care about nothing but yourself, and nothing will ever change it. Dean’s right, the world would be a better place without you. Your son would be better without you!”

Sam barely manage to finish the sentence, when he felt a fist landing on his jaw. Powers or not, Lucifer knew how to punch, because Sam was pushed back into the wall from the force of it. His face burned with sharp pain, and he heard a ringing noise in his ears.

Having to hold onto the wall, the hunter steadied himself and looked up, seeing Lucifer’s face turning almost mad with anger. His own rage didn’t dwindle, doubling even instead. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Sam wiped his lips, noting blood on the sleeve of his jacket.

He wanted to say something snarky, but at this point he was seeing red, any coherent thought leaving him. Every little bad thing that happened to him because of Lucifer flashed before his eyes, and he wanted to hurt him for all of it, make him pay. Bearing his teeth, Sam leaped forward, his fist flying towards Lucifer’s solar plexus.

The archangel tried to dodge out of the way, but he didn’t have his inhuman speed to back him up, so the hit landed on target and Lucifer bent in two with a howl of pain. Sam didn’t stop there. Before Lucifer could catch a breath, he grabbed him by the shoulder, throwing him into the table in the corner of the room. The thin wooden surface of its top cracked under his weight, crushed into pieces.

“All of it is because of you!” Sam growled. “My life, my family, you ruined it all!”

“I did nothing to you!” Lucifer replied getting up, breathing deep and heavily. There was now a gash over his eyebrow, blood running down his face, but it didn’t seem to slow him. “Do you think I cared for the Apocalypse?” he asked moving forward, towards Sam again, “Michael was the one who wanted it, not me! Framed, betrayed, I was still ready to look for other ways, but without help, the only thing I could do was to play along!” he groaned kicking Sam in the leg, forcing the hunter to kneel. He swung his hand aiming at Sam’s face again, but the hunter managed to block the hit.

Grabbing Lucifer by the wrist, Sam pulled and threw him over own shoulder, sending him into the divider between two rooms, braking it in half too. This time, the archangel did better, rolling in his fall and getting to his feet almost immediately. Grabbing a pillow from the bed, he hurled it into the hunter, and while a pillow could do nothing to harm Sam, it was a distraction. The hunter kicked it out of the way, but had no time to recover to dodge Lucifer jumping at him.

Somehow, they ended on the floor in a heap, punishing each-other, hitting whenever they could reach, until Sam’s entire body ached.

“You was supposed to understand me!” Lucifer whaled, rolling on top of him, pressing Sam against the floor with the weight of his body, which the hunter suspected was heavier than his own, despite him being the taller one.

It took Sam by surprise how strange the archangel’s voice sounded, forced him to look up. He ignored the fist hanging over him and focused on Lucifer’s face, nothing there were tears in his eyes now.

“I’ve waited for you for so long. I...” he hiccuped and his first landed with force next to Sam’s head, hitting the floor instead of him. “I’ve never wanted to _use_ you body, you were meant to be my partner... someone who...”

Lucifer didn’t finish what he was about to say, as tears started to run down his cheeks, and his head fell onto Sam’s shoulder with a soft thud.

The motel room submerged into silence. In it, Sam could hear the rain outside only worsening, the sound of it turning into a monotone hiss. Yet, it was distant, irrelevant, and could do nothing to cover the soft sobbing right next to his ear.

Lucifer felt heavy, solid and warm. His chest was shaking in short, quiet gasps, and the only thing Sam could do was to lay there looking at the ceiling, breathing too fast from the adrenaline that hadn’t have time to subside yet.

He pondered if he was supposed to be terrified having Lucifer in such proximity, but he was too much at a loss from unexpectancy of the archangel’s reaction. And so, Sam thought about his words.

On the corner of his mind, the hunter recollected an old memory, which was vague, distant, as if coming from a dream he had years ago. In it Lucifer and Michael stood in a Stull Cemetery, ready to fight, yet it was Lucifer begging his brother to reconsider, to move off the board.

Sam could’ve helped him, could’ve shown a better way, but he hadn’t. Not during the Apocalypse, not later, when the archangel helped them in a fight against Amara. At the time, after being expelled from Castiel’s vessel, Lucifer had been dumped somewhere hurt and alone, without anyone caring what happened to him. Up to this day Sam couldn’t get it out of his head how hurt he sounded afterwards, when confessing he had no plan anymore.

Sam was a fool, a biggest one, no matter what he did. He was a fool for not trying to help the archangel, he was even a bigger fool for regretting it now, but there was nothing he could do to supress the guilt.

He knew he shouldn’t have felt it, because Lucifer hurt him too, and it didn’t matter if it was in retaliation, or for fun. There was no reason to pity him now, no reason to reach out and embrace, pull him even tighter against own body, run hands over his still shaking back in attempt to sooth his pain.

The archangel exhaled in surprise, and Sam felt a puff of almost hot air against his skin. Lucifer shivered, his head turning just slightly in the direction of Sam’s face, but it was enough for his stubble to rub against the hunter’s cheek — a sensation that was strange, but not entirely repulsing.

Sam turned too, trying to take a better look at Lucifer, wondering if he should say something. He opened his mouth, but before he had time to speak, there was something hot and wet and rather prickly pressed against it. It was painful a little, Sam’s lower lip hurt and tasted of iron, but the physical discomfort went to the second plan as he realized Lucifer was kissing him. It wasn’t an accidental brush of lips, it wasn’t chaste, but deep, desperate and completely uncoordinated.

Every emotion inside the hunter scrunched into a tiny ball that sat so hot in his chest, Sam though it could burn him alive. His thoughts were racing, but not a single one resurfaced long enough to even comprehend what it was about. And so, he simply laid there, clenching into the archangel’s jacket, as he could drown if he let go.

It stopped as abruptly as it started. Lucifer rose above him, his still red eyes wide in shock, his expression confused, as if he himself couldn’t believe what happened. In a quick, fluid motion he was on his feet, spinning around and stomping towards the door and out of the room.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. His head was spinning, and he wondered if he hit it sometime during their fight, but he doubted it was the reason. He wondered what just happened, and why he wasn’t more disgusted, but he had no answer, only gaping, dark emptiness and a cool breeze that was coming from somewhere outside.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and ran his hand through his slightly tangled hair, smoothing them. He noted the room becoming brighter too and understood the archangel didn’t close the door after leaving.

Where would he even go in a pocket dimension and under a downpour?

Sam knew he shouldn’t have followed him, and his lips were supposed to buzz more in pain from the split crossing it, rather than from the kiss, but nothing in his life was as it should’ve been. That was why he found himself getting up and walking out of the room too.

There was a small porch-like entrance to the row of motel rooms that had a roof, but even standing there Sam could feel the rain reaching him, drops of it blown into his direction by the wind. It was also cold, and the hunter had to huddle further into his jacket which was still dump from his last short stride under the bad weather conditions.

Sam spotted the archangel almost immediately. Paying no attention to the falling from the sky water, he stood about thirty feet away from the entrance, his face turned upwards, eyes closed.

“Lucifer!” Sam called, hoping the archangel would be able to hear him. Yet, even if he did, there was no reaction.

Groaning in annoyance, Sam started to walk towards him, realizing half-way that he had no idea what he was going to say, beside voicing his thoughts on the devil’s immature behaviour. It was too late, however, and he was already too wet to senselessly go back.

“Lucifer,” he spoke again as he reached the archangel, still needing to rise his voice to speak over the noise of water beating against concrete. “Please come inside.”

The archangel spared him a single glance, but turned away, continuing to silently look at the vast nothingness around them.

“If it’s about what happened, we’ll just ignore it,” he wasn’t sure if he meant the kiss or the archangel breaking into tears. Probably both, because, to be honest, he himself wished to ignore it, pretend it had never happened.

Yet again, there was nothing but silence from Lucifer, and Sam pendered if he needed to give up. In the end, it wasn’t his business what the archangel was doing to himself.

He wasn’t even sure why, but he tried again. “Please come inside, it’s too cold,” he said almost pleadingly. Then, to lighten the atmosphere at least slightly, he added, “I swear if you get hypothermia, I’m not warming you up.”

This time Lucifer hummed, sounding almost amused, yet there was still a note of spite left in his voice. “You came to kill me, why my well being matter to you now?”

“I don’t want to kill you,” Sam confessed shaking his head.

Lucifer made another sound, and Sam couldn’t tell if it was in surprise or agreement. “It’s either that, or locking me up again. Neither sound reassuring.”

“Perhaps,” Sam agreed. He took a deep breath then, deciding if he wanted this conversation to go anywhere, he needed to be a little more honest. “But I don’t want to see you dead. You dying would... upset me,” he confessed. It sounded even more personal than he expected, especially after what happened earlier, and he felt himself burning from top to toes, despite the raging storm.

Lucifer’s eyes opened wider and he looked at the hunter with surprise. Then his expression softened, a touch of warmth sparkled in his eyes, which did something strange to the hunter’s breathing. It was gone fast, almost to the point Sam though he imagined it, but Lucifer nodded, and for the moment it seemed like enough.

***

The first thing Sam noticed upon their return was that the room somehow cleaned itself. There was not a single trace of their fight left, every piece of broken furniture was now back in its original shape, as if it had never been broken. It took him a bit by surprise, but he didn’t comment.

Instead, Sam focused on own clothes which were completely soaked. First, he discarded his jacket, dropping it right in front of the door deciding to deal with it later. The rest of his clothes were wet too, and there was no way he could continue wearing them.

Originally having no plans of staying here for longer than ten minutes, Sam didn’t have any spare, but from his earlier exploration, he remembered seeing two white robes in the bathroom. It was a really good thing, because the alternative of walking around naked was something he really didn’t wish to happen.

Before disappearing behind the bathroom door, he spared a single glance towards the archangel, who stood almost motionless in the opposite corner of the room. Lucifer’s hands were locked behind his straightened back, and he was trying to project an air of calmness and dignity, but he also looked like a drenched kitten, so the proud posture was a null point.

“Just take it all off,” Sam sighed, stepping into the bathroom. The request sounded rather provocative, all things considered, and he found himself feeling uneasy. Still, somehow having Lucifer cry on his shoulder felt more intimate than asking him to undress.

As the hunter reached the shelf with the folded bathrobes, somethin else caught his attention. What he initially thought to be just a mirror, seemed to had hinges, which meant it was a medicine cabinet. Temporary forgetting about the robes, Sam moved to open it, and felt triumphant to discover it was stocked full of first aid items.

“Hey, Lucifer, come here,” he called going through the cabinet, pulling out bandages, a bottle of medical peroxide and some weak painkillers. Even if the room fixed itself after they’d been throwing each other around, there were still plenty of scrapes on the two of them. “I want to check your hand, make sure you didn’t break your knuckles,” he explained, remembering how hard Lucifer punched the floor. He didn’t know why he was offering help, only knew he would feel wrong not to.

There was no response, and Sam turned around determined to make sure the archangel was still in the room. Instead, he found himself facing Lucifer who stood in the door frame, wrapped into a large blanket that he most likely pulled from the bed.

Sam wondered if Lucifer was doing it for his sake, or if angels had a similar social perspective on nudity, having a comparable to humans structure of bodies in their true forms. Or he could’ve been simply cold without his powers. In any way, Sam was really thankful for not getting an eyeful.

“Umm, here’s something to change into,” he pointed at the bathrobes. “Just, erm, grab one.”

***

The bathroom was as chilly as the main room, maybe only slightly warmer. It wasn’t particularly cold, but Sam couldn’t call it comfortable either. He was hudling into the white bathrobe, that was too short to cover most of him.

“It’s going to sting a little,” he warned, bringing Lucifer’s hand closer to himself. It felt warm under his fingers. The skin was a little dry, but soft, and Sam was doing his best not to think about this point of contact between them, about how the archangel's thumb rubbed against his pinkie as if by accident, but not really.

There was blood covering Lucifer’s knuckles, the skin over them scrapped from the impact with the floor.

“Mmm,” Lucifer made a sound of either agreement, or indifference. His eyes were directed at his own hand, and there was a sparkle of curiosity there, as if he saw it for the first time.

Sam took a deep breath and brought a piece of gauze soaked in peroxide to the broken skin, going as fast and careful as he could cleaning it. The burn made Lucifer hiss at first, but then he stilled, allowing Sam to work without interruptions.

When it was done, Sam carefully bandaged the hand, and let it go with a sense of relief and pride, as he saw the archangel examining it and giving an approving nod. He wasn’t sure why Lucifer’s reaction brought this emotion, but he was certain it was another one of those things he shouldn’t think about.

“Let me quickly check your eyebrow, it might need stitches,” the hunter sighed again, trying to move closer.

He realized immediately it was a mistake. The bathroom was too small, and it was impossible to move a chair inside, so they were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and even a slightest of movements brought their bare knees together. Sam managed to suppress a sharp intake of breath he wanted to take, but could do nothing with the heat that rose to his cheeks.

He wanted to pull away, but was afraid it would look even more suspicious. Plus, he really needed to check the split, so he pushed forward even further.

There was another exhale from Lucifer. Sam felt it over his own dry lips, and he shivered almost violently. After only a swipe of gauze over the eyebrow the hunter could see it was too minor to require any further attention, and he made a mistake of moving his eyes away from it, meeting Lucifer’s gaze.

Sam felt chilly earlier, but now he thought the room was getting a little too warm. He saw the archangel’s pupils blown to the point there was barely any blue left. His lips were parted, breathing coming evenly but deep.

“You have a little here too,” Lucifer said in a voice so low Sam could barely recognize it. Reaching out, the archangel brushed his thumb over a spot on the hunter’s lower lip, and it echoed with dull pain, the sensation that by all means should've felt unpleasant, but it only made Sam open his mouth a little wider, a strange soft noise rising up from his chest.

There was an undeniable reaction to the archangel’s proximity in Sam. It wasn't new, as he used to be constantly afraid of him. This, however, was not fear, far from it. By any extend of loginc, it should've freaked him out more than anything that had transferred between them so far. Yet after the emotional rollercoaster he was on for the entirety of the day, the part of his brain that was responsible for rational thinking was functioning no more.

Some distant voice was screaming at him still, telling him something was going incredibly wrong, but he felt Lucifer moving his thumb further over his lip and closed his eyes instead, simply too tired to resist.

There was a strange rumble coming from somewhere between them and the touch disappeared. Sam’s eyes snapped open, and he was met with Lucifer’s confused expression. “Was that me or you?” Sam asked, understanding what the sound was.

Lucifer didn’t reply, at least not verbally. His hand came to quizzically rub his own stomach, and it was an answer enough.

***

Sam wanted to laugh when he opened the mini fridge. If there was any doubt they were locked together by Gabriel, it was completely gone now, because there, inside the freezer section, stood a giant bucket of _Cookies and Cream_ ice cream. It wouldn't have been his first choice of dinner, neither it would be his second or third, but without any other option, it was going to do.

“I really think waiting out is not an option,” Sam said, pulling the bucket out and looking around the room for anything they could use to eat it. Thankfully, he was able to immediately spot two convenient bowls and two spoons on the countertop above the refrigerator, which he was sure were not there before.

“Summon Gabriel and stab him repeatedly until he lets us go?” Lucifer proposed. The archangel was sitting on the table now, watching Sam’s actions with guarded curiosity. “I mean, we’ve done plenty of talking. More talking than there was a need for.”

Sam sighed, placing the bucket onto the counter, opening it and starting to fill the bowls. “I guess,” he agreed with a strange sense of relief. Their interactions were taking all the strange turns, becoming something not completely sane, and he thought that not talking about it was a good thing. Later he would be able to scratch it off as a misadventure of a tired, melancholic mind, and a lonely soul, would be able to forget about it.

Stucking spoons into both bowls, he picked them up, bringing one to the archangel, who looked at the offering with distrust, but accepted it. The second bowl the hunter took with him, moving into the different section of the room. There, he climbed into the bed, covering his legs with a blanket and getting comfortable.

He almost brought a spoonful of ice-cream to his mouth, when Lucifer spoke again, ignoring his own advice of remaining silent. “Nothing’s changed. I don’t need the Apocalypse, I don’t even care about humans anymore,” he exhaled deeply. They were now sitting in different parts of the room, but it was so small, it didn’t really matter. “So, just leave me alone, forget about me,” he added, so quiet Sam could barely hear him.

The request stung, even if it made no sense. Not ever needing to deal with the archangel was supposed to be a good thing, yet his words made the hunter want to clench his fists. Slowly breathing through his nose, Sam closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on something besides his feelings of unexplainable dejection.

He still felt throbs of dull pain from where Lucifer hit him, but the sensation of it was familiar, almost a welcomed distraction. His fingers were cold, wet from the condensation on the bowl, but now he felt almost nauseous to eat anything, so he blindly placed it on the nightstand.

Distantly, he heard an appreciative humm from Lucifer, who presumably finally tried out the cold, sugary treat, and the spoon continued to steadily clank against the ceramic. There was a louder thud as the bowl was placed somewhere on a wooden surface, a soft creak of the table, even softer steps approaching Sam.

When the bed dipped under the weight of another person, Sam opened his eyes. He wanted to say something, maybe protest, but there was a lump in his throat, and he thought he might start crying if he tried to speak, so he concentrated on looking up.

The ceiling above him was tall, white, textured. The fan was rotating slowly, silently and Sam was sure he’d spent at least half an hour simply watching it spin. He had to, because if he wasn’t going to look at the fan, he was going to look at Lucifer.

The archangel laid still beside him, not moving even once the entire time, but Sam could feel him, knew his eyes were on him. It was the same sense of danger that he’d been experiencing earlier, but different somehow, less sharp, even if more intense.

Taking a deep breath, the tried to push all of the thoughts away, clear his mind, concentrating on the circular movement that felt almost hypnotizing, hoping at the same time it wouldn’t lull him to sleep.

It wasn't helping, every emotion that had no reason to be there was swarming him, and he could still feel the ghost of Lucifer’s thumb, his kiss against own lips.

There was a quiet sigh from the side of him and, forgetting for a second it was a bad idea, Sam turned his head. He probably should’ve felt shame as his eyes landed on Lucifer’s blue ones, as he tried to look away, but couldn’t.

There was pain in these eyes too. Lucifer looked apologetic somehow, and regretful, but also defiant, challenging. And most of all, there was loneliness in them, so deep that it matched the hunter’s own, maybe even surpassed. They both were lost, they both were...

Sam thought it would’ve been a good thing if he could tell for sure who moved first, but he couldn’t. He knew only that one moment they were looking at each other, and the other moment both of them met in the middle of the bed, their lips clashing in a kiss that started slow, cautious, but turned heated before the hunter could even register it.

It felt like everything Sam was holding up to this point came crashing down. All the despair, need, emptiness he didn’t know how to fill for so long rushed from him a steady stream, projecting itself in physical desire.

There were hands all over him, caressing, pushing the flaps of his bathrobe apart, exploring his body with a greedy uncertainty. Sam answered in kind, his fingers tugging at the sash holding Lucifer’s own robe in place, shoving it out of the way and off the archangel’s shoulders, until there were no barriers between them and the hunter’s skin pressed flush against the heat of the another unclothed body.

Lucifer pulled, Sam pushed, and the next thing the hunter knew he was on top of him, his lips moving to the archangel’s jaw, his teeth scraping over the stubble, that felt surprisingly pleasant against his still aching lips.

In the cool of the room, Lucifer felt hot, almost burning, and real, even if everything else was just a figment of someone else’s imagination. But now it seemed like a good thing, the ability to hold onto something solid even for this short blissful moment of weakness, of lack of any kind of coherent, logical thought.

Sam thought it was almost unfair, but Lucifer even tasted human. There was a sweetness of ice cream in his mouth, a tinge of salt under Sam’s tongue as he kissed down his jaw, to his neck, until he found the too quick, almost erratic pulse. He smelled human too, bitter-sweet, heady. There was no trace of soap on him, no tangy perfume, but it was also pleasant, grounding.

The skin under Sam’s touch was strange, unusual, covered in coarse hair in places where he used to smoothness. Sharp angles where he used to curves, but it didn’t even registered in his mind as something he needed to ponder for too long.

Yet, there was familiarity to it too, to the soft gasps of pleasure coming from the archangel’s mouth. They were loud, and this reaction brought a sense of relief, realization that no matter how alien Lucifer could seem, there were things about him Sam could understand, could share.

They weren’t talking, not a single word escaped them since the first touch, but Sam sucked in Lucifer’s nipple into his mouth and the archangel moaned again, openly, completely unrestrained, and it went staring into places Sam had been ignoring for way too long.

Lucifer’s hands ran up and down Sam’s spine, and his touch was so soft and gentle it took the hunter by surprise. The archangel held him as it he was the most precious thing, one that he could break if he wasn’t careful. It felt as if for this moment in time, he really cared about Sam, but he could only explain it with his hands, his lips which couldn’t stop kissing every part of Sam’s body they could reach.

With a groan, Lucifer pushed Sam, rolling them over effortlessly. He slid between the hunter’s legs and his undeniably hard length pressed against Sam’s own, making them both gasp. He rolled his hips slowly, as if trying it out, and Sam moaned too, his head falling backwards against the pillow, opening the access to his neck, which Lucifer used to the full advantage, mouthing at the sensitive skin there.

Sam’s head was spinning from this gentle pleasure, from the heat which was eating him from the inside, leaving him completely breathless. He jumped into this flame on his own volition and thought he would be ok if it burned him alive.

Starting to move together with the archangel’s unsure rhythm, Sam grinded against him shamelessly, looking for a sort of friction that worked the best. It felt good, but Sam wanted more, needed more. In one graceful movement he pushed them onto the side and reached between their bodies, taking them both into his hand, feeling a ping of giddy amusement from the discovery he was bigger than the devil.

Lucifer’s breathing became erratic, and his mouth opened into a silent oh. If his touches were gentle at first, now he was grasping into the hunter with all the dispersion of a drowning man, his blunt nails digging into Sam’s skin, bound to leave marks. His member grew even harder, making the hunter realize he was getting very close.

“Sam,” Lucifer called, and it was a plea, a prayer, his voice so unfamiliar, as if belonging to someone else. “Sam,” he repeated and the hunter realised he needed to see it, needed to know how Lucifer looked completely undone, with nothing else on his mind but the pleasure that Sam was giving him.

Forgetting about his own need completely, Sam concentrates on Lucifer’s face, on the expression of pure bliss that by all means shouldn’t have belonged there, but it wasn’t the first time the archangel was defying odds.

Then Lucifer gasped, almost as is in surprise. His face twisted, and he came with a short, sharp cry, hot wetness spilling over Sam’s stomach, his chest, and it was the most amazing and unbelievable thing the hunter had ever witnessed.

Not giving the the archangel any time to come around, think, Sam pushed him to lay on his back. He wanted to kick his legs apart and bury himself inside Lucifer, take and take, until the archangel had nothing left to give, until both of them could forget every bad thing they were responsible for.

He couldn’t do it, doubted Lucifer would even allow something like that. Instead, Sam locked his eyes with the archangel, and took himself into a firm grip, wishing to stroke himself into completion.

Lucifer was still catching his breath, but his gaze shifted to Sam again. His nostrils flared on the exhale and he reached out, grabbing the hunter by his hair, pulling at them so hard it was painful. Yet, not only it didn’t phase Sam, it made him groan louder, encouraged. Lucifer smirked and pulled him for a kiss, his teeth sinking into already abused lip, a tangy taste or iron filling Sam’s mouth again.

One more storke, one intake of air and Sam was coming too, onto Lucifer’s skin, and the archangel swallowed every sound that he made, hungry, desperately. He didn’t let go, continuing to kiss Sam deep until every muscle in the hunter’s body gave up and he collapsed into the waiting arms.

Lucifer held him tight, his palm rubbed circles over the hunter’s back in a reassuring manner, as if Sam was still important to him. It was lie, nothing but a temporary weakness, all of it, but for this moment in time, Sam allowed himself to imagine otherwise.

***

It was quiet, the silence in the room disturbed only by the sounds of the storm still raging outside, and Sam was afraid do move, to break it. He knew if he was only to shift a muscle, he might get the archangel’s attention, would have to interact with him in some manner, and he was not ready for it just yet. Hell, he was certain he’d never be ready, and it would’ve been great if they could pretend the other did not exist for the rest of eternity.

Lucifer laid still beside him, not moving, as if he also had similar concerns. He was looking upwards, at the ceiling, his chest rising and descending slowly. The features of his face were outlined by the dull gray light, sharp against the window.

In such close proximity, Sam could see every prickly hair of his short beard, every wrinkle under the archangel’s eyes. He felt the heat of his body against his bare skin under the blanket. One of his knees was touching the archangel’s hip and he regretted that point of contact, but he was too afraid to move his leg away.

What have they done?

Sam felt as if his mind had been blanketed with haze the entire time, but cleared now. He gulped and squinted his eyes, a light shiver running down his spine. The feeling of loneliness, emptiness returned, but stronger, overwhelming him to the point he could feel tears growing in his eyes.

He wanted to get out of the bed and dress and run as far away as he could, even of it meant getting lost in the absolute nothing outside, freezing in the downpour. But he also wanted to move closer, because in this messed up word he craved intimacy, a kind of one he could put a face and a name for, remember the day after.

Except that face should look neither like a man who was pushing past his prime, nor like a horrible, disfigured monster that he’d seen in the Cage, and that name should not be Lucifer, it made no sense.

At some point he most likely let out a sound, or made his struggle known in some other way, because he felt the mattress under him shift, and when he opened his eyes, he saw he archangel turning towards him. He started to reach out with his hand, but stopped mid air, looking at Sam with uncertainty.

“Sam,” he started and quieted down.

The hunter wondered if Lucifer shared any of his thoughts, his confusion and guilt and whatever else was in that cocktail of emotions. If he also regretted what they’ve done.

There was a way of finding it out, and Sam wondered if he should ask, but there was nothing Lucifer could tell him, nothing on a scale from ‘this meant nothing’ to ‘I love you’ could satisfy him, nothing that he could or wanted to accept.

“No,” he shook his head. “Please, don’t.”

The archangel’s hand fell onto the pillow, but his eyes stayed on the hunter.

Sam couldn’t bear it. Taking a deep breath he turned around and moved away. He pushed the covers out of the way and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to Lucifer. He could still feel the archangel’s gaze burning on his skin in the cool of the room, and it made him feel conscious about own nudity.

Trying not to show it, Sam picked one of the bathrobes that ended on the floor. He wasn’t sure if it was his, or Lucifer’s, but at the moment he only cared about covering himself, hiding his weakness by placing a layer of clothes between his body and the archangel’s eyes.

On a shaky legs, he stood up from the bed and walked to the bathroom. There, he opened a faucet and stared at the running water for several moments, before cuping some of it into his palms and splashing it against his burning face.

In the mirror above the sink, Sam’s reflection watched him back, looking beat up and more than a little exhausted. There was a bruise now around his split lip, something he didn’t even know could happen. Another small cut was decorating his left cheek, while his right one was scraped, and there were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

Carefully he was cleaning his face, his neck with cold water, but it wasn’t enough. He felt dirty all over and, worst of all, he knew soap and water were not going to help. Still, there was sweat on him, other things he really didn’t want to be there, so he undressed again. Dropping the robe onto the floor, he stepped into the shower, turning the water on to barely warm.

It felt nice against his skin, and he wished it could wash away his feelings, leave him in a state of blank numbness. Closing his eyes, he wondering if it all was just a strange dream, a nightmare he was going to wake up from any moment. Something told him that it wasn’t.

It was real, and it was only going to get worse.

Sliding down the wall of the stall, Sam hugged his knees, tears finally finding their way to the outside world.

***

When he returned from the shower, Sam was greeted by the sight of the archangel standing next to the window. Lucifer was looking outside with an expression almost blank, and was still completely naked, hands crossed over his chest.

Sam expected to feel embarrassments, disgust, another ping of arousal, anything, but he was simply too exhausted. Without any restraint, the hunter looked over his strong, wide shoulders, fairly muscular back, at the curve of his backside, at the taut skin that looked paler in the light coming from the window.

Lucifer stepped once from one foot to the other, as if in a gesture of uncomfortables, muscles on his back shifting slightly, but didn’t look at Sam. Only now the hunter realized the archangel’s back was turned to him, all caution gone, as if Lucifer didn’t expect Sam to hurt him, which was a sharp change from earlier.

But it wasn’t the only change. For the first time in years, Lucifer looked like his old self, the one Sam had met years ago, when he released the devil from his Cage. There was no pretentious carelessness in his expression, no upbeat mask, no jokes or sarcasm he was using to hide his emotions.

No matter what Sam had discovered earlier, for this instance in time, Lucifer didn’t look human, but was a being so old and wise it was beyond Sam’s comprehension. Like another bucket of cold water it splashed over Sam — they were too much apart for what they’ve done to have any meaning.

“I feel strangely warm,” the archangel said, and Sam wondered absently if he meant an emotional warmth, or tried to explain the state of his undress. After a moments he realized he shouldn’t care.

“I, umm... I’m going to sleep,” Sam announced, ignoring his words. He wasn’t really sleepy, but he needed an excuse to continue ignoring Lucifer. He knew that it was unfair towards the archangel, but he didn’t care. There was a part of him that wished he could even hurt him somehow with it.

He climbed back into the bed which still smelt of sex and Lucifer, and it was so sharp it almost send the hunter into another spiral of emotions he couldn’t name. He wanted to take the very center of it, tell Lucifer without using words that he didn’t want to let him close. Still, he found himself curling into a ball on one side, trying to shut down the part of him that longed for the warmth of another body.

With his eyes closed, Sam heard Lucifer shuffle about the room, a door to the bathroom opening and closing. There was a cling of draper hooks moving over the curtain rack, and the room sunk into dimness. The last thing Sam remembered hearing was a quiet creak of the chair next to the bed, then everything was slowly starting to float away.

***

It was still raining when Sam woke up, and it made him want to tug the blanked further over his head, return to sleep. Something was nudging at his mind, however, something unsettling that forced him to open his eyes.

The room was dim, but not because it was night. There were curtains covering the only window, but a gap between them was enough to let some of the light in, make it possible to look around.

Sam found he was a motel room, surprisingly neat if a little extravagant in style. It was clean inside, with only some things amiss. A plate full of melted ice cream was sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, an assortment of clothes hung around every surface, drying.

He couldn’t remember where he was at first, but then the events of the previous day started to catch up with him, making him shiver, confusion and embarrassment settling in the pit of his stomach in a cold, solid mass.

Gulping, he glanced around trying to locate Lucifer and spotted him huddling asleep on the chair. The archangel wore the white bathrobe, but was curling into himself as if he was cold, and Sam felt more than a little guilty because of it. Then again, it wasn’t like the hunter forced him to sleep like that.

Carefully, not to wake Lucifer up, Sam climbed out of the bed. He pulled up his blanket and dragged it towards the archangel wanting to throw it over his sleeping form. As he approached him, however, Sam noticed something glinted at him from the nightstand closest to the chair. Turning to look at it, he saw it was the archangel blade, the one he came here with, determined to kill Lucifer.

Reaching out, he picked the blade up, looking at the chunk of celestial metal with unease. He felt something incredible wrong holding it now, and the cold surface of it was unpleasant to the touch, making him want to drop it.

A quiet commotion came from the chair and, as Sam turned to look at Lucifer, he saw him waking up.

The archangel groaned, rubbing his face, looking lost and confused for a moment, before his eyes settled on Sam. There was a touch of warmth to his expression, but it was gone next moment, when his gaze slid to the hunter’s hand, to the blade he held.

Even with so little illumination in the room, Sam could see how hurt his expression turned, devastated even, and the hunter couldn’t stop himself from feeling even more guilt, even if it all was just misunderstanding.

He opened his mouth, intending to explain himself, but the air in the room shifted before he had a chance, a slow glow outlined the archangel, his eyes glowing red.

A wave of force slammed into Sam, pressing him against the wall, kicking the air out of his lungs. “Luc—“ he tried to speak, but didn’t have a breathe left in him for more than a single syllabus.

“I believed you,” Lucifer said, his voice cold, dejected.

Sam squinted, trying to fight against the force that immobilized him, but it all was in vain. There was a current of air, a sound of flapping wings and, in the next blink of an eye, Lucifer was gone together with all his clothes. The force that held the hunter against the wall disappeared, and Sam fell down to his knees. He was alone in the room now, feeling more miserable than he ever remembered being.

***

Less than half an hour later, Sam’s surroundings started to dissipate, the room changing its shape to a more square one. The colors became different too, turning onto shades of green and tan, and Sam needed to admit it looked a little cozier, not to mention matched better with the exterior of the building.

Dean rushed through the door with determination, looking around for any signs of danger. Then his face turned a little confused. “What the hell, I saw him coming inside!” he groaned in annoyance, and Sam immediately understood that no time had passed for the older hunter. Finally he turned to Sam, his eyes becoming wider with surprise. “What happened to you?”

Sam was glad that by this time he was completely dressed. His jeans and jacket were still a little damp, but he could deal with it. He’d had his fair share of grave digging in bad weather and hours long drives without changing afterwards. This was not too bad in comparison.

“Dean,” Sam sighed rubbing stray hairs out of his face. “Let’s... let’s just go home, ok?”

***

Sam gave his brother a short explanation of the events, on their way back. His story felt incomplete and made little sense, but he had to cut out a lot of pieces, a lot of details. He knew Dean most likely realized he wasn’t telling all, but he didn’t pry, for which the younger hunter was grateful.

Turning his head to the passenger window, Sam watched the naked trees flash before his eyes as they drove through a forest. He tried to hold it back, but at some point tears started to roll down his cheeks again, his vision blurring, forcing him to close his eyes.

“I don’t know what he did to you, and I’m not gonna ask,” Dean said sharply. “But I swear, I’m gonna kill him for it.”

“It’s fine, really,” Sam offered him a forced smile.

Sam couldn’t even start explaining that Lucifer did nothing wrong, that the younger hunter feel the way he did because of own stupidity that stretched into too many layers, because of the mistakes he continued to make no matter how many times he was warned, and also because of the circumstances no one was to blame for.

The weather was also responsible for it, at least to some extend. It continued to rain the entire trip to Lebanon, the sky remaining dark and gloomy. The drops of it were hitting the roof of the car, creating a steady, monotone sound.

_Pat, pat, pat pat._

 

**Author's Note:**

> If enough people like this fic, there will be 2 more parts to it. Up to you guys, up to you ;)


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